Page 4 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

I waited until I heard his footsteps at the bottom of the stairs, before I collapsed onto the bed next to Del’s still form, and let out a squeaky whimper. “Oh my god,” I mumbled andshakily untied the hospital gown, “oh no, no, no. No. This isn’t happening.”

There was a man in my house, and Del was hurt, and I didn’t know where Victor was, and it was all wrong. Every single instinct was screaming at me to run and hide. I couldn’t go through this again. I couldn’t be responsible for another person getting hurt. But Del was here, and she needed help, and I couldn’t hide under my blankets until the nightmare passed.

Julian wasn’t back by the time I’d changed her. Maybe he was just waiting for the signal that she was decent again.

“Julian?” I called out for him, and when I didn’t get a reply, I checked the hallway. Empty. Del probably needed those meds sooner rather than later, right? I rushed downstairs, only to find a huge bag of what looked like medical equipment at the foot of the stairs. “Julian?”

“In here!” His voice came from the back of the house. I followed the noise of drawers banging shut to the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?”

“Found it.” He waved a butter knife through the air - but instead of using it for whatever medical stuff he’d brought, he stepped up to the kitchen island where he’d already laid out bread, mustard, turkey and lettuce.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He raised his brows at me, one side of his mouth contorting into a strange grin.

“Are you making yourself a sandwich right now? You can’t be serious.”

“You’re right.” He set the knife down.

Thank god. I knew people had strange reactions to distressing situations, but food was not a priority right now.

“I thinkyoushould make me a sandwich,” he said. “You’re the woman of the house, right? It’s your kitchen.”

“What?”

“I said, you should make me a sandwich.” Julian reached behind his back, and my world froze. Everything zeroed in on the gun in his hands. The black metal gleamed in the kitchen lights. The gaping black hole of the barrel pointed straight at me. I shut my eyes for a moment as I forced myself to stay calm. The memory of an old familiar blood stain took shape behind my lids, but when I opened my eyes again, there was just Julian with his gun. “Chop chop.”

If there was one rule engraved on my brain, it was that you didn’t argue with the men holding you at gunpoint. That kind of rule became part of your very being once you saw your mother shot in the chest.

My feet somehow moved me to the kitchen counter, and I stared at the ingredients before me. I’d never even made a sandwich. What a pathetic realization to come to right now.

“What are you doing?” My voice was surprisingly steady. I started spreading the mustard on a slice of bread, hoping that was right. I really didn’t want to get murdered over a sandwich.

“Just securing my investments.”

“What?”

“The world only needs one Cordelia Montgomery. She’ll inherit the family fortune in a few days. I’d much rather it be the Cordelia Montgomery that my little brother already has wrapped around his finger.”

I swallowed, glancing up from the sandwich fillings. “You came here to kill me?”

Where was Victor? If Julian had kidnapped Del from the hospital tosecure his investment, Victor must have realized by now that she wasn’t there. He had to be on his way back.

“You’re the elusive Cordelia Montgomery,” Julian mused, “you’re a mystery to the whole world. I figured we’d spend somequalitytime together before I shoot you.”

I didn’t like the way he said ‘qualitytime’ - but at least that did buy mesometime. It bought Victor time.

“Here.” I pushed the plate with the finished sandwich across the counter at him.

“That’s not how you serve food, Cordelia.” He waved the gun in the direction of the dining table, and my eyes landed on my phone that I must have forgotten there at some point today. If I managed to set the plate down with one hand, and swipe the phone with the other…

I carried the sandwich past Julian, acutely aware of his steps behind me. “Where do you want to sit?”

“Right there is fine.”

“Here?” I lowered the plate without turning around. My phone was just a few inches left of me. I just had to take a small step to the side, angle my body in a way that suggested I was waiting for Julian to sit, stretch my fingers a little- Julian swiped the phone off the table.